


Am I the only hope for you? (Cause you’re the only hope for me).

by Alexander_Slamilton



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU - Draco is good, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Everybody Lives, Falling In Love, Fix-It, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Good Draco Malfoy, Hogwarts Era, Hogwarts Fifth Year, Light Angst, M/M, Multi, Person of Color Harry Potter, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Talking, War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-23 18:03:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17085110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexander_Slamilton/pseuds/Alexander_Slamilton
Summary: "Everything had started over the previous summer. When Draco had come face to snake-like face with the Dark Lord. He shivered, goosebumps trickling up his spine as the memory of red eyes took hold of him; it had been horrible, like dementors but ten fold, and no matter how many hours he spent in the shower after it felt like he would never quite be warm and clean again."Draco decides to go to McGonagall after Lord Voldemort comes to his family home the summer before his fifth year. She helps. Then he helps the order. Only he didn't expect to fall in love along the way.





	1. Run away like it was yesterday.

Draco paced the Slytherin dorm, grateful for once that Blaise had had some emergency with a girl from Ravenclaw. Or was it Terry Boot. Again. He wasn’t sure but in any case, he was grateful that Blaise had been on the receiving end of a rather nasty stinging hex. It left the dorm empty and gave him some space and time to think. So there he was. Pacing. And muttering to himself like a fool. Though he knew that his mind was already made up. 

Everything had started over the previous summer. When Draco had come face to snake-like face with the Dark Lord. He shivered, goosebumps trickling up his spine as the memory of red eyes took hold of him; it had been horrible, like dementors but ten fold, and no matter how many hours he spent in the shower after it felt like he would never quite be warm and clean again. He rubbed absently at the clean skin of his left arm. Draco’d told his friends that the Dark Lord wanted to wait until next summer to mark him; though that wasn’t entirely true. He’d suffered through many a cruciatus curse for pleading with him to wait. Draco was just delaying the inevitable by standing around in his dorm. So, he took a deep breath and left the room. He almost cast a disillusionment charm on himself but decided against it when he remembered just who he was going to see. 

The corridors were empty at night, almost hauntingly so, if he hadn’t been friends with several ghosts, Draco may have been scared. It wasn’t past the curfew for fifth years, he still had some time left to get where he was going. Though he had a few more staircases to climb and they didn’t seem to want to co-operate with him at the moment. He hopped deftly as one began to move from the landing he needed. There was no one around, not even another prefect patrol from Ravenclaw or Gryffindor. The torches flickered in their lamps as he moved down the flagstone corridor towards the professor’s study. He’d never been here at night, the castle’s history echoed about him in the stony silence. A sense of trepidation filled him. His chest was tight with anxiety, his heart felt as though it might beat out of his rib cage and onto the floor in front of him. Draco almost laughed at the mental image that conjured. Before he realised he was right outside the door he needed. He raised his hand to knock. 

“Enter,” came the voice from inside the room, it was pleasant and, Draco noticed, seemingly unsurprised. 

“Professor,” Draco said as he pushed open the door, once he remembered that he could in fact talk of course. 

“Mr Malfoy,” Professor McGonagall looked up from behind her desk, her tartan nightcap sitting perfectly atop her slightly greying hair. “And what might I do for you?” 

“I am in need of some help, Professor,” Draco took a steadying breath, “it has occurred to me that over the next few years certain allegiances are going to have to be made, and well, I saw for myself over the summer where my parents stand. Who they stand for. What they stand for. And I’ve thought about it.” He moved further into the room, closing the door behind him. Another breath. He ran his hand through his hair. “I don’t-“ Draco cut himself off. This was his last chance. Once he said the last part there was no going back. “I do not think I wish to stand on the same side as them.” 

Professor McGonagall regarded him over the tops of her glasses before she smiled just a little and set aside the parchments on her desk. “Take a seat, Mr Malfoy,” she said, gesturing him to one of the straight-backed chairs facing her.

“Thank you, Professor,” Draco sagged with relief, every muscle in his body relaxed as he all but threw himself into the chair. 

“Start from the beginning, then,” she prompted gently, “what brought this on? This change of heart, it is, if you’ll forgive me, out of character.” 

“He was in my house this summer,” Draco started, slowly, quietly. The echoes of the Dark Lord’s cruel, high voice bounced around in Draco’s head. “He was. They wanted to mark me.” That started the torrent of words spilling from Draco’s mouth like he was a tap that hadn’t been shut off properly. A dam broke inside him as he sat in Professor McGonagall’s office, the fire in the grate burning to the left of him and her stare burning in front. When he finished, it felt as though he’d been talking for hours. 

“That was, quite the tale, Mr Malfoy.” She nodded, “there are several ways we can go from here. Allow me to present you with some options,” she paused and looked at him, Draco nodded jerkily. “The first is this; that we pull you from your family home and away from Hogwarts. You’d go into hiding and would complete your education with private tutors; this can be arranged.” McGonagall paused again, watching him, gauging his reactions. Draco shifted. “The second; we can provide you with some way that, should you feel the need, would take you from your family home at any time. This would work the best, it would offer you protection without pulling you away from Hogwarts. It would mean that you would not need to leave, and you could remain with your family a little while longer. Perhaps you would prefer this option. There is a third; that you remain with your family and try to convince them to abandon their side and join you in hiding-“

“My father would probably crucify me if I suggested that, Professor,” Draco sighed, resting his head on the desk. There was an awfully pregnant pause, where Draco fought tears; it was like Voldemort’s snake, Nagini, had wrapped herself around his chest and was slowly squeezing the life out of him bit by torn bit. “The second one. I choose the second one.” He said, finally. “Though could I mother if she would like to accompany me?” 

“I do not see why that shouldn’t be possible,” McGonagall straightened her, already straight, spectacles. “Mr Malfoy,” she said, in a softer tone.

“Yes, Professor,” Draco hurriedly gathered himself up, pulling the bits of him that were scattered around back into his body. 

“It was awfully brave to come here, tonight,” she said, smiling a little, “have a biscuit, Mr Malfoy.” She pulled out a tin of shortbread and was setting it on the desk in front of Draco when there was a pounding on the door. Someone was knocking so hard that the heavy oak door was rocking in its frame. “Excuse me, Mr Malfoy, but that sounds like someone from my house,” she looked up at the door and spoke clearly, “Enter.”

“Professor! Professor! It’s Harry, Professor. He’s gone bloody mental, he’s rolling around on the floor and hissing and yelling!” Seamus Finnigan and Ron Weasley were outside the door, looking wild-eyed and breathing hard. 

“Language, Mr Weasley,” Professor McGonagall said shortly, but she was obviously alarmed at what Weasley was shouting. “Is Mr Potter asleep?” She asked, “is this merely a bad dream?”

“He woke up just when we left to get you, Professor, and, it didn’t look like any bad dream I’ve ever seen.” Finnigan shook his head.

They hadn’t seen Draco yet, McGonagall had only opened the door enough so that they could see her. Draco hunched forward in the chair, his shoulders folding in on himself, as he studied the tin of biscuits. Weasley and Finnigan were speaking more quietly to McGonagall, having calmed down enough to make some sort of sense; bloody Gryffindors, useless really in a crisis. But Draco shook his head and tried to imagine how they would feel having seen one of their dorm mates writhing and yelling so much he fell out bed. He was trying to change; he’d seen where being a judgemental twat go you and he didn’t want that future. No thank you. 

McGonagall turned to him and smiled, “Please, take a biscuit, and perhaps you could meet me here tomorrow, at eight after dinner?” She didn’t say his name, she kept his identity hidden, Draco couldn’t help but feel grateful to her for that. He sat in the chair for a good few seconds after the three of them were gone. Through his whole life, he’d had his future mapped out for him; now it seemed like an open book, it could go anywhere. He could go anywhere. It was oddly daunting.


	2. Not a Victim of a Victim's Life.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No trigger warnings for this chapter just yet. There shouldn't be many for the whole thing to be honest, but if there are then I'll put them up here.

Draco woke early the day before the Christmas Holidays. A cold sweat had settled over him during the night; he’d somehow managed to entangle himself in his sheets, he kicked his feet and struggled to get up. His trunk lay packed for home, but he could already feel the acid burning up his throat at the thought of Malfoy Manor. The imposing black exterior had leaked into the halls, and that had been in the light and warmth of summer. Now there was a chill in the air, and the days were dark; Draco shuddered at the thought of the house. Curled in his palm was a snitch, nothing unusual for a seeker but this was a snitch with a secret. It hummed slightly with a magic that was only attuned to him. The snitch was warm to the touch, he ran his fingers over the ridges on it, he just hoped it worked. There was a twin, sitting on Minerva McGonagall’s desk, it would glow when Draco twisted the left wing to the right. He’d wanted to stay, but he realised that he was in an unusual position; Draco alone had, as of the moment, unfettered access to Malfoy Manor. This was a way he could make a difference, if he could gain some information, then maybe he could perhaps save a life. 

“Draco! Draco it’s nearly time for class,” Theodore Nott shook the curtains around Draco’s bed. “Hurry, Snape will have your arse if you don’t get into gear.” 

“Yeah, give me a minute, Nott,” Draco mumbled as he hurriedly stored the snitch under his pillow. Not the most imaginative of places but, he was short of time. If he wasn’t careful though, someone would find it, that was the beauty of having it being a snitch. No one would think it was strange that he had a snitch, though maybe they would tease him. It’d been years since he’d kept a snitch from a Quidditch game. 

He rolled out of bed, pulling the curtains aside as he did so. Draco kept his uniform hung on the rails around the central stove, so it was warm when he wriggled a leg into his trousers. Praising whatever foresight had granted him warm uniform Draco struggled with the buttons on his shirt. Seven o’clock wasn’t even a time to him, he’d need multiple cups of coffee before potions, though mercifully it was a half day and lessons would finish at one. Draco was very much not ready for the dreadful noise that pervaded the Great Hall at breakfast. It was far too early, the sun had only just risen above the mountains. The day looked like it would be fair. A novelty for Scotland in December. Not even that, though could brighten the sour mood that had settled itself over Draco like his own personal rain cloud; he was more and more sick to his stomach the more he thought of going home. Would he still be stalking the halls where Draco had grown up? God. Draco hoped not. 

“Draco, whatever has gotten into you? You’re looking more and more like a flobberworm every day.” Pansy sidled up to him, running a hand over his shoulder. 

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe it’s just that I can’t have a proper Christmas because father insists on me revising for the damn OWLs.” Draco put on his usual drawl, trying to get back into the character of himself. “Or maybe it has to do with that toad who is pretending to be a teacher? Tell me, Pansy, what do we really have to happy about right now?”

“Merlin, Draco, take it out on someone else will you,” Pansy flicked his ear and left him to his soggy cornflakes. “We should be happy that the toad is at least giving us the chance to make sure those Gryffindors get the justice they deserve.” 

“I suppose,” he drew out the vowels, rounding them out and turning his face into his usual sneer. “It’s just a shame that we have to put up with her simpering face and that we’re not going to pass our OWL on account of the fact that we’ve not been taught half the course. But we get to piss the Gryffindors off, so that’s okay.” He spooned one more mouthful of cornflakes and took another sip of coffee before he got up from the table. Stalking off, he didn’t pay attention to anyone, ignoring the look on Potter’s face as he pushed past him. He didn't even have it in him to mutter an 'out of my way, Potter,' as he did so. 

“Mr Malfoy, if you don’t mind, I would like to discuss with you your latest assignment,” Professor McGonagall placed a hand on his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. 

“Of course, Professor,” Draco turned, following the Professor as she walked briskly down the hall, which was rapidly filling with students. He was lost int he sound of the voices echoing off the stone walls. A sea of black with dashes of colour. Draco floated along with the crowd, Professor McGonagall forging ahead a few paces, the students parting as she came. They came to a halt outside her office, she stood aside as she opened the door, letting him enter first. Inside there was a man, with long shaggy hair, streaked with a few strands of grey. He sat lounging on the chair Draco had occupied. Draco knew him. And he knew Draco, judging by his face. 

“Hello, Cousin,” Sirius Black grinned, “how’re things?” Draco’s breath caught in his throat as Sirius laughed. He schooled his face into something which he hoped resembled friendly. “Before you go on and say something daft about me being a murderer, I’m innocent, so jot that down.” 

“I- I- What?” Draco looked between Sirius and McGonagall, his eyes moving faster and faster. “Why… Why?” He looked at McGonagall, gesturing at Black. 

“Because we have reason to pull you out of your family home it has come to our attention that-“

“Wait, where did you hear this? Who’ve you got spying for you?” Draco was still standing, even though Professor McGonagall had long since sat down behind her desk. 

“We will keep that to ourselves, I think, Mr Malfoy.” McGonagall smiled a little, though she still looked stern. How she pulled that off, Draco couldn’t figure out. “In any case, we have reason to pull you from your home, effective immediately. It is no longer safe for you to remain, it appears that someone listened in on our conversation enough to realise that you were betraying your family.” 

“Right,” then Draco really did sit down, in the chair next to Sirius; he put his head down on the desk. He tried with all of his might not to let the news break him. It did though. It hurt. What McGonagall had said was slowly sinking in. He’d likely not see his family ever again. Tears found their way into his eyes. Sadness wormed its way under his skin. It sat there like an itch he couldn’t scratch. 

“I am sorry, Mr Malfoy,” Professor McGonagall said, reaching across the table and touching his arm lightly. 

“Where am I going?” Draco asked, looking up at McGonagall. Though he had a small feeling, he knew the answer. 

“That’s where I come in,” Sirius said gruffly, “Dumbledore seems to think that being around a magical signature from someone in your family, might confuse anyone who tries to track you down. Andromeda said that she would take you, only her house isn’t under a fidelius, whereas Grimmauld Place already is. And I live there already. So it makes sense. Only don’t go into my mother’s room. A certain hippogriff who doesn’t like you very much lives there.” 

“Wait. What?” Draco gasped, “I knew that oaf was lying when he said that monster had escaped and flown away.” He tried to put a stamp on his anger, but everything had pushed him to the edge. “Just you wait, I’ll make sure that beast-“ 

“Mr Malfoy, if you do not mind, I would appreciate it if you could calm yourself. The Order of the Phoenix is happy to help you so long as you behave yourself, it would not do well to insult the man you are going to be living with for the foreseeable future. Also, I would like to let you know that we can provide you with financial assistance if you so need.” McGonagall said hushing him in a firm yet sympathetic tone, that really did nothing to stifle his anger. 

“I had my accounts at Gringotts made private over the last week, just in case I had to the pull the switch at short notice. I don’t think I’ll need any money,” he sniffed, there were somethings a Malfoy could not stoop to. But he caught the look on his Professor’s face, “thank you though, that’s a generous offer.”

“There’s a room for you, I can’t promise it’s clean or in any good nick, but it’s room, and you can do whatever you want to it. I don’t care. There’s also a house elf who’ll likely like you more than he likes me, he might actually make you edible food. If you want to come over Christmas, you’re welcome to. The whole Weasley brood is over, Harry’s coming too, and Hermione; though I don’t think that’ll make you more likely to come.” Sirius looked over at him, his voice was gruff, as though it hadn’t quite recovered from all those years in Azkaban. Draco almost felt sorry for him. “You’re going to be staying for quite a while so you may as well come over and get over whatever stupid little squabbles you have with that lot because I’m not going to stop Harry from coming and living there too. Likewise, I’m not going to let him ruin your home for you.” 

“Yeah,” Draco muttered, “I suppose, it was all stupid anyway because he wouldn’t be my friend.” It was a weight lifting off him, to admit that all he’d wanted from Potter was friendship and that he’d felt second best when Potter rejected him. Really, their whole argument was petty. Losing everything really put things in perspective. He’d been a bit shit. All his life was just one mistake after another stupid decision. “There’s really going to be a war, isn’t there?” He asked. 

“Yes, there probably is. But you’re on the right side of it now. Win or lose, you’re on the right side.” Sirius said putting a hand on his shoulder. “You could actually make yourself into a decent bloke, now you’ve stopped being a twat.” 

"I- thanks,” Draco mumbled, not bothering to look up, knowing that Sirius was laughing at him and Professor McGonagall probably looked mildly disapproving but amused all the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again hope you liked it, please leave kudos/comments/whatever floats your boat... I'm not sure how often this'll get updated because I've got an important exam in January and I'm in my final year of university. And applying for Masters courses so... we'll see. Updates are likely to be short in any case, but they should come every now and then. 
> 
> Find me on tumblr: @trans-hawkguy 
> 
> Chapter title from: Save Yourself, I’ll Hold Them Back by My Chemical Romance on their album Danger Days.


	3. Terrified of What I'd Be.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warnings: some mentions of just how bad life was for Draco in Malfoy Manor, his dad was exremely controlling. There is a mention of Lucius hitting Draco as well. Some hint at the homophobia Draco suffered as well; nothing too explicit though.

It was official. Harry Potter was the world’s biggest bastard. When he’d first arrived at Grimmauld Place (which made him shudder because of the layers of dirt it was caked in) no one had paid him much attention. He’d grown used to it. Having people ignore him. Black was there, with Lupin hovering around him like a nervous pixie. The whole Weasley cohort was there too. But he’d been mostly ignored. Draco had even come to like it. Being alone gave him time to think, without having to talk to anyone so that he’d never slip up. But then Harry ‘I Have To Save Everyone’ Potter showed up, and his peace was shattered. At least he had his room. He’d been able to hide in there to stop the awkward conversations and the forced interactions.

All in all, there had been worse Christmases. Draco had told him three hundred times that he was not spying for Voldemort. He’d even shown Potter his arm to prove he’d not taken the dark mark. Nothing seemed to be enough. The other boy was utterly convinced that Draco was spying. 

“Malfoy! Just let me in okay?” It was Black, thankfully, not Potter. Draco sighed from where he’d thrown himself over his bed (which was now covered in Egyptian cotton). 

“Fine,” he unlocked his door, letting his cousin in, “what do you- oh great.” Potter was with Black. Of course, he was. When had he turned into an idiot? Draco sighed and moved to the end of the bed so that he was sitting up. “What do you want, Potter?” 

“I like what you’ve done to the place,” Black said, smiling as he took in the room, which had gone from a mouldy, dark green colour to a duck egg blue. “My mother would have hated it.” 

“You said I could do what I wanted with it,” Draco said, crossing his arms and looking at Black with narrowed eyes. 

“No, I know, I mean my mother would hate it, which is the very reason why I love it.” Sirius smiled, “anyway, Harry just wanted to use me to get in here, and now that he’s done that I’m going to leave you to it. I have Remus waiting for me under some particularly persistent mistletoe. Bye!” Sirius turned and left the room, Draco cursed him as he went. 

“Well, you can go now, Potter.” Draco stood and tried to shove him out the room, pushing. “Go on, leave me alone.” 

“Wait. Malfoy, just let me-“ Potter braced himself against the door holding on to it with all his strength. Which, Draco, totally didn’t notice. “I wanted to say I’m sorry, alright. Sirius explained what happened to you. And look, I know you’re not spying. So. Sorry.” He grumbled and then allowed Draco to push him out of the door. 

“Wow so kind of you to grace me with your apologies,” Draco sneered, “the Great Harry Potter, Gryffindor’s Golden Son gracing the lowly Slytherin with his chivalrous apologies. I am honoured, Potter, truly. But right now, I would really like it if you get your noble and extremely oversized head out of my room and allow me a small modicum of peace.” 

Potter didn’t say anything, he just gave Draco this odd look, like he was only just realising something before he turned and hurried down the stairs back to his band of loyal Gryffindor pals. Draco sighed, and close his door, all he wanted to do was mourn the loss of his life, of the future that had been planned out for him. It was like the floor had been pulled from under him. He was in the middle of the Great Lake with a sinking boat and no oar or wand. Draco was floundering in the mess his life had become. Slowly he sank down at his desk. 

Dear Mother, 

I am sure by now Father has told you of my betrayal, I am sure that he wasted no breath in telling you that I was a filthy blood traitor. But I wanted you to know, that even though I left, I still love you. There is a place here, where I am, for you. You should take it. Come and join me, please, I don’t think I can do this without you. I hope you have a Merry Christmas Mother. I do wish I could apologise for what I have done, but I am doing what I feel is right; something that I learned from you.

Your Son,   
Draco.

Draco sighed and put down his quill, he would likely not send the letter, no matter that he was missing his mother like he would a part of him. His mother was stubborn, and she loved his father; she would probably not leave his side, even if she thought what Lucius was doing was wrong. They had much to a traditional of marriage. From far below him, he could hear the Weasleys laughing and joking; it seemed as though they would never be quiet. Grimmauld Place was a far cry from Malfoy Manor. And though he was surrounded by people, Draco couldn’t help but feel terribly alone. 

“Kreacher,” he said, the elf popped into Draco’s room and stood there waiting for him to speak, “could you bring my supper up here tonight? I don’t much fancy being around other people at the moment.” 

“Master Sirius has requested that everyone occupying the house eats dinner in the kitchen, Sir,” Kreacher shook his head, his floppy ears flapping, “on account of the fact that the Weasley spawns spilt gravy on a dresser which promptly bit them.”

“Serves them right,” Draco muttered, “so, I have no choice but to enter the lion’s den if I am to eat. Great, just wonderful. I suppose I made my choice though,” he said to the small elf. 

“Perhaps, Kreacher could bring something up to Master Draco,” Kreacher looked up at him, with wide eyes. The elf had been unfriendly until he’d found out who Draco was, then he’d been nothing but polite and even almost kind to Draco. Which had annoyed Sirius a great deal, Draco had seen him glowering at the elf from the corner of the room. “Something that might cheer him?” 

“Um.” Draco didn’t know what a house elf would class as ‘something to cheer him’, but the elf was trying to be helpful, so he nodded. “Sure. I suppose.” 

The elf popped out of the room, only to return less than a minute later, with crumpled photography clutched in his tiny hands. He handed it to Draco. The photo was creased, and it looked like it had been repaired with spellotape. But the smiling faces are still clearly visible, his mother; and his aunt Andromeda are prodding a grumbling Sirius. They were teasing him, braiding his hair. Sirius had been mostly cut out of the picture, likely after he’d run away. Draco traced his mother’s face with a finger. 

“Thank you, Kreacher,” Draco smiled, laughing as little Narcissa poked her sister in the side. She stuck her tongue out as she laughed. Draco used to that, he had done until his father had smacked him on the back of his head and told him that that was not how Malfoys behaved. The photo was bittersweet, but it was something of his mother’s. Draco put it on his bedside table. 

Kreacher didn’t say anything just bowed and popped out of the room. There were a few hours left until supper, but Draco had already done his homework. He’d nothing left to do. Not even his Defense Against the Dark Arts. Sighing, he knew there was nothing left for it and, steeling himself, he walked out of his room. Luckily, it seemed like the other people currently occupying the house had gone out because Draco didn’t bump into anyone as he walked down the stairs. He praised whatever higher power that existed as he made it to the library without seeing anyone. 

The library was enchanted so that it was bigger though it was still not as big as the one he’d grown up in. But it always brought him comfort just to be around books. He found his way to a shelf that held Greek Mythology. The wizarding stories were slightly different from the muggle ones, and these ones were old. Draco noticed with delight that they were in the original Greek. He didn’t mean to fall asleep, but it was just so easy while he was curled up with a book. Listening to the rain patter down outside, it took no effort of his to just drop off and give in to sleep. 

“Malfoy! Oi, Malfoy? You in here?” It was one of the older Weasleys, one of the twins it sounded like. As far as Draco could tell, he was alone. 

“Yes,” Draco had about enough time to straighten himself before Weasely rounded the corner. “Is supper ready?”

“Ah, no,” Weasley shook his head. “Look, we know why you’re here because you switched sides or whatever so we were wondering if you wanted to come and play exploding snap. It’s a kind of Christmas tradition. Really this was all Mum’s idea, she always needs someone to mother, and trust me it’s easier just to go along with it.” 

“Exploding snap?” Draco raised an eyebrow, “you know what, I might as well.” He stood and pretended not to notice the small smile on the Weasley boy’s face. It made him slightly nervous. He knew what those twins were doing in their spare time, the explosions coming from their room and the rumours flying around the school were enough. 

“If you want my advice, sit next to Charlie, he’s the muscly one with the tattoos.” Weasley muttered, “Charlie’s too chill to even bother teasing you or anything; there’s the path of least resistance.”

“Why are you helping me?” Draco almost sneered, but decided against it, they were inviting him to join their family tradition. It felt almost nice. 

“Well, you’re a prat, but Harry seems to think you’ve changed and really so far you’ve not given me a reason to doubt that. So there we go. If you’ve changed, then you’ve changed.” He shrugged, “I’m Fred by the way. In case you were wondering. George probably would have punched you if he’d spent this amount of time alone with you.” 

“That’s comforting to know,” Draco muttered, “I live in a house of people who want to punch me. That’s wonderful.” 

“Well, not full of people who want to punch you,” Fred smiled, “I don’t. Harry doesn’t I don't think; Hermione already has so I think she’s got that out her system; Sirius doesn’t care enough to; Lupin thinks you’ve got talent; Bill and Charlie, well they don’t know you, so they don’t want to just yet. Mum might if you fuck up Christmas. Ron does, he thinks you’re playing mind games and manipulating Harry, but he was never the brightest when it comes to people. Chess? Oh yeah, Ron’s your guy but people? Nah. Anyway, here we are.” 

“Um, thanks,” Draco walked through the door to the kitchen where the whole of the Weasley family, Granger, Potter, Black, and Lupin were sitting around the table. 

“Gosh, don’t you look pale, have you been eating enough?” A plump witch, around his mother’s age, came up to him. 

“Er, yes, I have, thanks?” Draco cast panicked eyes to Fred, who just shrugged a little and grinned as he made his way to sit down next to his twin. 

“Merlin, I didn’t think he’d come,” Draco heard Ron mutter to Potter, but Potter didn’t even acknowledge him. 

“Ron,” Granger elbowed him, “that was awfully rude.” She looked up and gave Draco a small smile. “We’ve not even dealt yet, so why don’t you sit down and we can start?” 

Draco looked around for the muscly redhead with tattoos that Fred had described, hoping to Merlin that there would be space next to him. He spotted the man who was sitting next to Lupin on one side. The other side of him was, mercifully, free. Draco nodded to Granger and sat down next to the Weasley. Charlie, Fred had called him. Referring to them all as Weasley was getting difficult. 

“Mr Malfoy,” Lupin nodded at him, as the cards were dealt on to the table. It was only then that Draco noticed Black was practically sitting on Lupin’s lap, and that their hands were clasped together. A rush went through him. A thrill of electricity shot up his spine. He’d never seen two men be affectionate, even if something was going on between them. Lupin’s eyes followed his. Amber turned cold and hard, Draco knew the defence mechanisms were coming into force; Lupin was daring him to comment. 

“Professor,” Draco said, “you must be Charlie? Right? Fred mentioned you had tattoos… I always wanted a dragon one, but my father told me he would disown me if I got one.” Draco felt the need to prove himself to this man. To prove that he’d changed. To show everyone that he could do something right. Charlie turned to him, he seemed friendly enough, but his gaze was calculating. 

“Yeah, that’s me,” Charlie inclined his head, “I actually do have a dragon tattoo, here,” he rolled up his sleeve, showing off a huge horntail. She blew fire and curled around his wrist as being suddenly exposed. “She’s a dragon I worked with on the reserve, we lost her last winter.” 

“You really are a dragon keeper, then?” Draco asked, his eyes wide, they’d thought Weasley was lying when he boasted that his brother was a dragon keeper. He’d just assumed that Weasley had felt the need to make his brothers cooler than they were. 

“I am, yeah,” Charlie laughed, “I’ve got the burns to prove it as well. Look,” he rolls his sleeve up a little further, showing off an angry red burn, which looked as though it had only just healed. 

“Showing off that burn already?” A thinner, more gangly Weasley with long hair tied back in a ponytail. “Honestly, I thought you’d give it a few more minutes.” 

“Shove off Bill, it’s an impressive one,” Charlie lobbed a pea at Bill. Draco ducked as the vegetable soared across the table and landed in Bill’s hair. 

“You wish it was,” Bill laughed as he leaned over and ruffled Charlie’s hair. That must have meant that Bill was the oldest Weasley. Charlie retaliated by throwing the whole bowl of peas at his brother. Draco was finding it difficult to keep a straight face. The others were all laughing and cheering their brothers on. 

“That was for dinner, Charlie,” Mrs Weasley shouted, as she came back into the room. Draco hadn’t noticed she’d gone, but Charlie cowered slightly under her fierce gaze, “for that you can help me shell them. Without magic.” 

Charlie groaned as Bill laughed, the rest of the Weasley yelled various things like ‘get him back Bill!’. It was a far more raucous affair than supper in the Manor every and been. Draco was finding that he quite liked it. Even though he was instead surrounded by Gryffindors. Charlie made sure to include him in conversations, it left a warm feeling in his chest.

All in all, it wasn’t a bad evening. Draco had undoubtedly had a lot worse. Even if the others from his year barely acknowledged his presence. Also Black had been quite kind to him. Things were starting to look up a bit, his mind was no longer dwelling on what he’d lost, but more what he stood to gain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave kudos and a comment if you liked it! 
> 
> Find me on tumblr: @trans-hawkguy
> 
> Chapter title from: Summertime by My Chemical Romance from Danger Days.


	4. Pick me off the ground.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some mentions of child abuse, that's it I think.

A few days before Christmas Draco was in the library, reading a book on defensive magic, because he was damned if he was going to fail his OWL; he was tracing the patterns with his wand, learning the movement before he prepared to cast the spell. It had been peaceful all day. The others in the house had left to rush to Diagon Alley to buy last-minute presents. So he’d taken advantage of the almost empty house to study. Then the door of the library opened, and Potter came in. Draco’s peace was shattered. Potter looked up at him. 

“Oh,” he said, articulately, “I didn’t realise you were- wait, are you trying a patronus charm?” Potter’s green eyes widened. 

“Potter.” Draco turned back to his book, “so what if I am?” Potter just walked over to him, pausing for a second before clear his throat. 

“You’re holding your wand too tight, the charm requires fluidity, not rigidity. Loosen your grip before you try the charm or it won’t work.” he sighed, Draco looked at him in shock. Had Potter just given him some useful information? “Do you know where I could find a book on potion making? I need one more source on moonstone.” 

“Um,” Draco said before he collected his wits, “there aren’t really any more sources here that would be appropriate for that essay.” Potter’s eyes flashed for just a second. “But,” Draco continued quickly, “accio Properties and Uses of Moonstone,” Draco summoned the book he’d used from his room. “Professor Snape gave me this, it’s from his collection, and it’s not in the library. It’s really meant for those who are pursuing a potions mastery, but it’s good for the essay.” The book came flying into the room; Potter had to duck to avoid getting hit by it. Draco handed it to him, “you’ll be wanting page seven hundred and fifty-three.”

“Thanks, Malfoy,” he said, his eyes wide in surprise, “I’ll be done with it quickly, I just need to write one paragraph.” Potter turned to go.

“Wait, why don’t you work in here, I could look over your essay for you. Goodness knows you need help in potions; I’d be surprised if you came away from you OWL with an acceptable. And well, I need some help with defence because of that toad I’ve not been able to practice anything practical, and I don’t know what I would do if I failed it.” Draco muttered, “you could bring your whole following if you wanted, I don’t own the library.” He sniffed, trying to retain his haughty expression from years past. 

“You know what, that actually sounds good, Malfoy,” Potter smiled, “thanks.” He put the book down on the table and walked off, saying, “I’ll just go get the others and my stuff,” over his shoulder. 

“Sometimes,” Draco said entirely to himself when Potter had left, “it’s like he forgets that he's a wizard.” He turned back to the page detailing the patronus charm and continued to try and think of a memory that would make the charm work. 

“Hi, Malfoy,” Granger said, as the Golden Trio walked into the room, accompanied by the youngest Weasley. “That book you gave Harry looks fascinating, would I be able to borrow it?” She set her things down on the table and gave Draco a wary looking smile. 

“I don’t see why not,” Draco shrugged, “oh, is that Practical Defensive Magic by Nawa Nazari? I looked for that in the library, but I think all the copies have been taken out.” 

“Yes, it is,” Granger nodded, showing Draco the cover, “I ordered it from this owl order catalogue after our first lesson with that woman. I think they’ve all sold out now, but you can borrow this as soon as I’m done with it if you like?” 

“That would be great, thank you,” Draco gave her a half smile, as she set about making notes on stunning spells. 

“I don’t understand,” Ron Weasley bashed his head against the table, “why is being porous an important property of moonstone?” 

“Because,” Draco answered, “it means you can infuse it. If it weren’t porous, you wouldn’t be able to soak it in anything, and it wouldn’t take on the properties of the potion you were trying to put it in. Thus it also wouldn’t dissolve very well, meaning it would be impossible to add it to anything either.” 

“Oh, where you’d read that?” Weasley asked, looking up at Draco, his face was guarded, his eyes narrowed. 

“Page four hundred and ninety-eight,” Draco slid another book across the table, he’d been intending to use it to check over his referencing, but he wasn’t using it just then. Weasley again looked at him, eyes narrowed, as he took the book. 

“So, why’re you being nice then?” He asked as he leafed through the pages, Weasley ignored Granger’s outraged cry of “Ron!”. “No, go on, what made you change your ways? Honestly, it’s like you’ve gone and done a complete one-eighty, it’s bloody weird.” He continued. Draco felt like ice was being poured down his back, but he sighed and shut his DADA book. 

“I, well, over the summer I came to realise that I didn’t actually like the stuff my father was saying, and then well. I resisted the Dark Lord when he tried to mark me, and I realised that I didn’t like what was happening to me. Then I took a step back and realised that everything he was doing, was wrong,” Draco said, his voice was flat and devoid of any emotion. “I didn’t want to be the man that my father is.” 

“Well, then,” Granger smiled at him, “that’s settled it, hasn’t it, Ron. He’s not spying or anything,” she elbowed Weasley, and he grudgingly nodded. 

“Don’t see why he’s here, though,” he muttered, turning back to his potions essay.

“Because, McGonagall received intelligence that the Dark Lord was going to mark me this Christmas, in order to ensure my loyalty. Apparently, someone from Slytherin told their parents something about my behaviour that made him doubt me,” Draco looked at Weasley, dead in the eye, grey meeting blue. “I had to leave, in order so as not to receive the mark, but you believe that I am spying. That I’m going to report everything back to a family that likely wouldn’t even want to talk to me,” he was cold and some of his old snark filtered into the words. “No matter that my father would likely kill me on sight. Believe it or not, I had to come here because Black is my cousin and blood magic is a powerful thing. He’s keeping me safe from having my magical signature tracked by the Dark Lord. They won’t know I am here so long as he is,” Draco sniffed and smirked a little at the Gryffindors’ shocked faces. 

“That’s quite interesting,” Granger said, her face taking on a thoughtful expression, “that your magical signatures are closely aligned, I wonder if that has something to do with your change of heart. That it’s altered your core or something?”

“I don’t know,” Draco shook his head, “I’ve not been to anyone to have a look, I know that cores can be altered by one’s emotional state, and also your environment.”

“Exactly, so I wonder if being around a completely different core has influenced yours, have you noticed a change in your magic?” She was regarding him with sharp curiosity, “I wonder if there’s been a shift, perhaps in your magic or maybe in Sirius’s.”

“Black’s won't have changed,” Draco shook his head, “his core is stable, he’s too old for it to shift. It would take a fairly strong bit of magical energy to shift his core now.” 

“You’re right,” Granger nodded, “of course. So have tried any magic since you’ve been here?”

“No, Granger, in fact, I’d forgotten that I am, in fact, a wizard until this very moment,” Draco drawled, but Granger didn’t appear phased by it. Instead, she just laughed and waited for Draco to continue. “Yes, I’ve mostly used domestic spells though, and they’re neutral in magical signature.”

“You were trying a patronus just now,” Potter said looking up for the first time since his Gryffindor friends had joined Draco in the library. “Why don’t you have a go at that again? The patronus charm is a purely light incantation, if your core has shifted, you find some change in the way the light spell reacts to you from how light spells reacted to your magic before.” 

Draco was shocked, Potter had never shown the slightest inclination towards academics since they’d been at Hogwarts. Though he seemed to have spouted something straight from a textbook, Draco raised an eyebrow, “Of course, that would mean being able to actually cast a patronus, which is not something any of us are versed in. Being NEWT level magic.” Draco said, but he caught the look on Potter’s face, “unless you can actually cast a corporeal patronus?”

“Actually, I can,” Potter smiled, but it wasn’t smug or annoying as it once would have been, Draco could tell that Potter was actually just being kind. “I could show you if you want?” Potter said having his hand around. 

“Go on, then,” Draco inclined his head, “show me.” 

Potter stood in the middle of the room and waved his wand, saying the incantation as he did so. Out of the tip of his wand came a white mist, that slowly built into the form of a stag. Draco’s jaw dropped just a little. Potter’s stag galloped around the room once, then came to a halt in front of Draco. The stag watched Draco for a moment, silver eyes full of emotion. It glittered in the dull light of the room as it stood in front of him. Great antlers made of smoke lifted, and then it bowed. Draco wondered if it had done that before. He wondered if any patronus had done that before. You could have heard a pin drop it was so quiet. Potter was watching his stag with wide eyes. Draco glanced at him. The moments stretched on. The stag did not move. Until it started to turn to smoke in front of Draco’s eyes, it lost its shape, dissolving into the air until there was nothing left. Still, the room was quiet.

“It must have just been recognising me,” Draco shrugged, “I’m sure it would not be used to my signature yet.”

“Yeah,” Potter laughed, scratching the back of his head, a pink blush settling on his cheeks. “Yeah, that’s probably it. Why don’t you try?” He sat back down at the table with a heavy thump. 

“Why, not,” Draco stood, dusting his robes, and trying to forget the look in those glittering eyes. There was something about the way the others were watching him like they were daring him to succeed. It was good motivation. Draco wondered if this was what being a Gryffindor was like. He’d certainly never been challenged in his own house, not directly at least, Slytherins were more subtle; plays at power were made behind closed doors and sealed lips. 

His wand was held in the same looser grip that Potter had shown him; Draco thought of a memory that could work. It was from his childhood when his grandfather had still been alive. It was the only truly happy memory Draco had. That was what had shocked him earlier. He had no truly happy memory apart from this one. He closed his eyes; he was back in his grandfather’s study, playing with a toy dragon, the sun was shining in golden rays. Draco could almost smell the old books and the slight hint of whiskey. His grandfather sat behind his desk, watching Draco with a small smile. His wand moved. 

“Expecto Patronum,” Draco still had his eyes closed, he could almost see his magic was an extremely odd sensation. His magic was rushing through him, and becoming something. But when he opened his eyes, the only thing visible was a white mist. 

“That’s better than what most people manage,” Potter said, he was watching from the table, his head was propped up on one hand. His green eyes were sharp with interest, they shone a little in the light from the windows. Potter smiled, a small one, barely an upturned corner to his mouth; but Draco could see it was there, “Lupin taught me, and I didn’t see anything until my third or fourth time.”

“When did you first cast a patronus, then Potter? When did Lupin teach you?” Draco asked shaking his head and sitting down, back at the table with the Gryffindors. It was nice, he decided, having people to talk to instead of hiding himself away in his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, I really appreciate the comments and kudos you've left so far. They really help with my motivation for writing this! 
> 
> Find me on tumblr: @trans-hawkguy
> 
> Chapter title from: Summertime by My Chemical Romance from their album Danger Days.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked this! My first foray into Drarry, and the Harry Potter fandom in a long time. Please, leave a kudos and comment if you liked it!
> 
> Work title is from: The Only Hope For Me Is You by My Chemical Romance from their album Danger Days. 
> 
> Chapter title is from: Bulletproof Heart by My Chemical Romance from their album Danger Days.


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